Seris D'Arkan lay back on her king-size bed, a luxurious work of black silk sheets and pillows so soft they swallowed her whole body. The Queen of All Witches' bedroom was a reflection of her own presence: vast, imposing, yet mysteriously intimate. Heavy scarlet velvet curtains blocked the moonlight, and hundreds of candles floated lazily in the air, casting a soft glow that cast dancing shadows on the walls covered in arcane symbols.
At that moment, however, Seris didn't feel like a monarch surrounded by cosmic secrets or a mentor shaping the future of magic. She felt… tired.
She had been mentally dragging herself since early morning, after another day of teaching Alice, her young disciple. Alice was a small flame that had grown too quickly, a sponge insatiable for knowledge. Every teaching, every sigil, every formula or incantation Seris poured her way was absorbed with absurd speed.
